


I Wish I was Your Lover

by TheInkedScroll



Series: Upon A Dream [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Driving, F/M, M/M, past Arthur/Eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInkedScroll/pseuds/TheInkedScroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weddings are supposed to be the happiest day of your life. A day for celebrating your happiness with your friends and family. Not everyone is always happy for the newly married couple though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wish I was Your Lover

The reception was surprisingly elegant and quiet, all things considered, but that was far from settling the feeling in Arthur's stomach. Granted, the music was far from anything he himself would have chosen, but looking beyond that, it was a very nice set up and lovely party. There were so many people around that the point man was close to feeling claustrophobic, and there was no way that he could make any sort of quick calculation on what the number could possibly come up to, but that was okay. It let him maneuver around unnoticed, which was exactly what he wanted to be. He might not be able to flat out leave, his manners holding him back from sneaking out of the fourteen potential escape routes that he had mapped out in his head over the last hour, but that didn't mean that he couldn't hide amongst the crowd.

 

Eventually though, Arthur found himself wandering back to his seat that wasn't that far from the wedding party's table, holding a glass of champagne with the same sturdiness he would have held the glock that was securely holstered against his hip, hidden underneath his three piece suit. Honestly, he wished he could have had it in his hand right now; he wouldn't dream of doing anything stupid with it, but it really would have settled him a hell of a lot more than these dainty champagne glasses were.

 

He wasn't sure how many of them he had passed around by now and traded off, but he knew it had to be quite a number of them, considering that he had caught Dom's eyes some time early during the evening, and the look had been blatantly asking him how many of those he'd had so far. It was an easily known fact, if one had known the point man long enough that is, that Arthur really, really didn't hold his alcohol very well. He was what most people would call a light-weight, had been made fun of for it for most of his military career, and he knew and accepted that fact, sure to limit what he had, if he had anything at all. Champagne was one of the exceptions to this trend; he could handle a lot more champagne than he could other forms of alcohol, so no one really would have blinked twice at three or four glasses going down Arthur's throat. He had ignored Cobb's look though, and had easily slipped back into the crowd at the time.

 

The glass count had to well exceed nine, he was sure, but the fun little fact was that he really hadn't been drinking them. Well, not after the first glass at least. He didn't have a clue on what the name was, (he had a reasonable guess, based on the amount of carbonation, the sharp tang, and the way in rolled over his tongue) but it was far from his liking. A lot of things were from his liking tonight though, which most people would point out was just him being petty, and maybe he was. He wouldn't admit it though.

 

The music and the decorations were gorgeous, soft and elegant, just right for an event like this, but Arthur couldn't help but find himself hating them without exact reason. Any other day, he might have commented on how lovely they were and how well everything had really come together, but definitely not now. He hated how everything matched; none of it should have, and the music was just so out of character and out of place that it had Arthur wanting to scream. There was quiet chatter all around him, so loud in its softness that it filled up the room, which wasn't a surprise, but he still found himself straining to hear a small catch of one obnoxiously loud voice that he hadn't been able to hear since they filed into the reception.

 

A hand clapped down lightly on his shoulder, and he tensed even further, only managing to slightly relax and produce a somewhat small smile when he looked up to find Cobb was taking the seat next to him, and that Ariadne wasn't that far away, making her way to resume the seat on his right where she had left the small hand bag that she had brought with her, reserving her seat. Arthur was spared from either of their potential questions though, as it seemed like everyone was turning their attention toward the wedding party's table as they took their seats, or stood against the borders of the room. Five different people had already cut off three of the potential exits Arthur had planned out, and he mentally crossed them off his list as he let his brown eyes scan the room.

 

The best man had just risen to his feet, but Arthur refused to look in his direction, and he couldn't help but cringe when the man started his speech.

 

_ Noah _

 

The little invitation cards had even said that, and that just made Arthur sicker than possibly anything else of this day had. From the best man, to the preacher, to the damn bride calling him  _Noah_. Arthur knew that was his name, had known that from the very first time he had done a preliminary background check on the man when Cobb and Mal had first introduced them, but that  _wasn't. his. name_.

 

_ "You're Arthur right?" Arthur had been surprised by the question as he was checking into the hotel and had tensed slightly, but turned around none the less to find a very lovely woman who had to be around his age. She was quite a bit shorter than him, had pale skin, dark eyes, and what looked like an untamable mountain of dark curls that fell down her back. What had identified her almost immediately though was the rather large, showy engagement ring on her left hand that clearly wasn't her tastes, judging from what Arthur could tell by the way she was dressed, but it fell into another certain someone's tastes he knew all too well. _

 

_ He had simply nodded, and the woman's face had lit up in a lovely, open smile before she introduced herself as Jane. It took him perhaps five seconds to recognize the names from the neat, orderly little wedding invitations, and he had attempted to give her a polite smile, no matter how much he had found himself  hating the woman and her immediate warmness for reasons other than her personality. It had quickly turned into polite conversation, and Arthur had really hoped that it would be done with once he was handed his room key, but it unfortunately wasn't; the young woman had decided to walk with him as he made his way to finding his room. It was upon exiting the elevator that she revealed her real reasoning for approaching him. _

 

_ "Arthur. I know this is kind of sudden, and all, but I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you," Jane had started, looking a little nervous, and he couldn't help but be wary almost immediately. People didn't ask you for favors when you just met them. "You see," she continued as she turned her dark eyes back to him, "Noah's been kind of ansty the last few weeks, which isn't particularly like him, but it's understandable really, with the wedding and all." He had to resist the urge to cringe when the word "Noah" left her lips, and the word "wedding" there after just made his queasy stomach rebel even further. "But I was wondering if you might... say something tomorrow. At the reception. Considering the way he talks about you, I know it would mean a lot to him." _

 

Arthur had told her he would think about it, not having any polite way to tell her no, but now when the memory came back to him, and the best man was moving to retake his seat during the applause for the speech that Arthur hadn't even been listening to, he found himself rising to his feet, fingers wrapped around the glass's stem. He swayed a little as he stood, his stomach twisting and his head spinning, and he couldn't help but swallow hard when he saw those blue eyes turn in his direction before anyone else's, and almost felt some kind of sick satisfaction when his gaze seemed to have a worried edge to them. Good. Let them think he was drunk; he knew he probably looked it, and if Eames had been at all watching him like Cobb had throughout this thing, which Arthur doubted, he would undoubtedly think that he was. Passing as drunk was the only way he was going to be able to save his pride later on.

 

He ignored Eames's eyes though, opting to focus on a spot on the far wall instead, and pretended not to notice the quiet, questioning hiss of his name coming from Ariadne as other people's eyes slowly began to turn to him to. He cleared his throat for a moment, knowing there was no going back on this before he took a deep breath.

 

"Eames and I met each other at a small get together that a good friend of both of ours, Mal, was having," Arthur started. Eames. Always Eames, never Noah. And if he had put a little emphasis on the name, he didn't care; he was too busy piecing together his story. It wasn't really a lie, considering that they had officially met when Mal and Cobb had brought them both together at a small get together that was meant to go over the possibilities of a job. He just figured it would be safer for all involved to leave any of the dream sharing out, especially since the bride had no clue about the dream business; Arthur  had researched her shortly after he had gotten the invitation. He barely heard the soft, relieved sigh that came from his left and continued on.

 

"From the moment he opened his mouth, we hated each other. He's always had a fine tuned talent for sticking his foot in his mouth," Arthur pointed out with a bit of affectionate annoyance to his tone, despite the fact that all he really wanted to do was find the nearest toilet and throw up into it; maybe flush himself down it if it would work. There was no doubt everyone, or at least a majority of them, knew exactly what he was talking about when a small bout of laughter followed that statement. "Or at least I hated him. Eames, on the other hand seemed quite intent on following me around and pushing any button he could find within those first few minutes, and I told Mal and Cobb both that if it was the last thing I would do, I would never have another thing to do with the man and to forget about inviting me to anymore parties if he was there. That plan didn't quite work out though, and we ran into one another again, a few years later in Paris on a less than happy occasion."

 

Arthur knew he was skipping a lot of years, a couple of jobs, a lot of pains, annoyances, and points where he wanted to strangle Eames, but it didn't matter. Those details didn't matter right now, and it would be a waste of time to attempt to encompass those in words to make everyone understand; the person he wanted to understand this would do so perfectly well without any padding in between, and if he didn't, Arthur would be far more disappointed in him than he ever had been before now.

 

"I held out rather well for the first day or so, at least until after the funeral, and then that night I got drunker than I had ever been in my life, possibly bordering on alcohol poisoning, considering my low alcohol tolerance, but who's really counting that. Eames found me in the middle of the street, doing a very bad job at attempting to hail a taxi and somehow managed to get me back to the hotel. He looked after me that night and the next day too, no matter how many times I told him to leave and threatened him with bodily harm. He stayed anyway. And at some point during that day, something changed, and we clicked. Things went over a lot better than our first meeting, and we sat down in the hotel, talking for hours, not noticing how most everyone else was leaving as the finished their meals and drifted else where. We didn't leave until they had to kick us out in order to close, but then we ended up sitting up well into the night on the hotel floor, talking and sharing things, and that's where the sun found us in the morning. Asleep in a pile with the blankets he must have pulled off the bed in some course of the night.

 

"That experience," Arthur breathed, closing his eyes with a bit of a pained smile as he paused for a moment, picturing where he had woken up that morning to find himself sprawled in an uncomfortable position across the other man, whose hair had been sticking up in all sorts of directions, a bit of drool coming from his mouth as he gave light snores. It had only gotten better when he had opened his sleepy blue eyes and had murmured a  _"Morning, Darling"_  with a smile, even if Arthur had scoffed and told him not to call him that. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that he would have to look at Eames if he didn't, and he wouldn't be able to finish it if he did. "connecting with someone who's practically a stranger, falling recklessly in love with them no matter how much you tell yourself it's a stupid idea and can't happen that fast, is one of life's greatest joys, and now that you're married, you'll never experience that again."

 

Arthur opened his eyes and they almost immediately landed on Eames like he knew that they would. The shocked expression on his face was almost worth it. Almost.

 

"It's a small price to pay for everlasting love," he continued before anyone could get a hold of themselves to stop him or say more beyond the shocked whispers that began to fill the room, but he never took his eyes off Eames. Small price for Eames, everything to Arthur. "A small one, but I hope it stings, just a little." He turned his eyes to the bride, Jane. Arthur was almost certain he would have liked her if she hadn't been taking his heart as hers to keep forever. "Jane, you asked me to give a speech, and there it is. I do wish you two the best though," he finished quietly, raising his champagne glass in the air, though refusing to look at either of them now, or anyone else in the room before he downed the glass, no matter how disgusting the stuff was, and quickly turned to use escape route number six.

 

After pulling away from the hand that Ariadne had tried to grab him with, Arthur wasn't surprised that no one came after him. It hurt. It burned like someone had taken a hot poker and was slowly working their way through his chest with it, but it didn't surprise him. This wasn't one of those romantic movies that he had always outwardly hated but secretly loved. Eames was in love, and it wasn't with him. He and Jane would really make a lovely couple, probably have lovely babies as well. As burly, smart-assed, and flirty as Eames was, he was made to have children, Arthur had no doubt.

 

With no one to stop him, Arthur wasted no time getting into his car and starting the engine before he quickly peeled out of the parking lot. He didn't want to give Cobb the chance to smooth things over for everyone there, claim that Arthur made the most ridiculous things up when he'd had too much to drink, and then be able to come after him. He didn't want Ariadne to get her bearings back in time to come after him either. Arthur couldn't explain and never would explain what had just happened back there; especially not now. He was too raw and frayed for facing anyone, and it was a miracle he had made it all the way to the reception at all, so instead, he drove.

 

He drove, and drove, and drove, with no destination in mind, and no where to be until his vision blurred and his stomach finally took that violent turn he had been expecting it to take all day. He pulled over to the side of the road and all but threw himself out and around the car before his stomach's contents found their way back up through his digestive system. Coughing and spitting, Arthur finally pushed himself off of his hands and knees and very shakily made his way back to the car, using one hand on the hood for momentary support before he climbed back inside.

 

It was then that he broke, sitting in the driver's seat as a scream left his throat and eventually turned into sobs. He hit the steering wheel repeatedly, threw the neatly organized folders he had in the passenger seat, and threw himself back against the seat as he came apart into a blubbering mess, letting out the emotions that had been ripping him apart inside for the last few weeks, ever since that invitation had arrived in his mailbox. He hadn't let himself give into any of this, but now it had him, and it wouldn't let him go until there was nothing left. Nothing at all.

 

He was shaking and numb, taking in ragged breaths when it all finally stopped. His head was pounding and his nose was clogged, and he still felt ungodly sick to his stomach, but he knew what he was going to do. Arthur wiped at his face and took a shaky breath before starting the car again. He ran his hand through his hair and slowly shifted it into gear, quick to check the mirrors and his blind spot for any traffic before he pulled onto the highway.

 

He wasn't going back to the hotel he had booked. No. Jane knew he was there, and in extension, so did Eames, who could undoubtedly tell Cobb and Ariadne, and no. No. He wouldn't go back to that. He would drive. Drive until he felt he had found a town that was reasonably far enough away that they wouldn't check it for him, if they came at all. He'd find the nicest hotel with a bar there and promptly go drown himself in whatever toxic mix the bartender saw fit to give him until he couldn't even remember his name.

 

Maybe he'd go hailing taxis after. Maybe this time, he'd actually get hit by one like he wanted to, just like he wanted to back then. Arthur snorted at the thought. No. He wouldn't get that lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for the angst fest. It was inspired by this cartoon thing: http://xkcd.com/420/ and once the idea was there, it just wouldn't go away. I'm thinking of maybe writing a follow up to it, but I don't know. I might just leave it with an angsty end xD
> 
> Any and all spelling mistakes are my own. xD


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